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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26232895">A New Beginning</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/marilyn4ever/pseuds/marilyn4ever'>marilyn4ever</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gotham (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU because I want these two idiots to have a happy ending, Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Mention of past Ed/Lee, Not separated for 10 years, Romance, Starting Over, Unintentional cameo from another show, brief mention of sex, nothing graphic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:28:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,979</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26232895</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/marilyn4ever/pseuds/marilyn4ever</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Oswald had plenty of time to think about things during his two years of incarceration at Blackgate penitentiary. It's not like he had anything else to do but ruminate on what had gone wrong in his life, bringing him to the only conclusion. The inevitable conclusion really, that he no longer wished to be the penguin. </p>
<p>Escape was the only recourse left open to him, and for his freedom to remain permanent he would have to do the unthinkable. Leave Gotham for good. Start a new life faraway from his beloved city.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A New Beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Oswald had plenty of time to think about things during his two years of incarceration at Blackgate penitentiary. It's not like he had anything else to do but ruminate on what had gone wrong in his life, bringing him to the only conclusion. The inevitable conclusion really, that he no longer wished to be the penguin. </p>
<p>He could claw his way back to the top, fight once again to secure his position, but the past two years had not been easy on him. The constant beatings from the other inmates and the guards had taken their toll. Shaken his psyche to the core. He knew that to endure eight more years of this hellhole was beyond him. </p>
<p>Escape was the only recourse left open to him, and for his freedom to remain permanent he would have to do the unthinkable. Leave Gotham for good. Start a new life faraway from his beloved city. </p>
<p>His plan was in place thanks to Victor Zsasz, one last job for old times sake and a pile of money, naturally. Then he had one last job for his old assassin, Oswald wouldn't leave knowing that his only friend was still locked up in Arkham. Victor would be given the task of breaking out the Riddler, what Edward did with his freedom was his own choice.</p>
<p>The escape went off without a hitch. Zsasz and Headhunter had stormed the prison, guns blazing. Mass panic had ensued giving Oswald the opportunity to waltz out under their very noses. It was a fitting exit for The Penguin's last breakout. He was then promptly bundled into a waiting van and whisked away to one of his safe houses.</p>
<p>Clothing and what little monies he had been able to squirrel away before his incarceration were waiting for him. Oswald waited 3 days for the hubbub to die down, readying himself to actually leave Gotham behind him. </p>
<p>Composing his letter to Edward took up most of his days, getting his affairs in order had been simple in comparison, when compared to the trying task of collectively wording everything that he had wanted to say to his old friend.</p>
<p>After far too many failed attempts, the wastebasket overflowing, he was finished. It felt like the goodbye that it inevitably was, Oswald was under no delusions that Edward wouldn't follow after him. The Riddler had done what he set out to accomplish, making a name for himself in this city. Edward would likely flourish, his name rising above those of others.</p>
<p>Oswald wouldn't stand in his way, Ed had already proven that he was more than capable on his own. The Riddler would be fine. He hadn't been able to help himself though, leaving a clue to where he intended to travel to first. </p>
<p>Ed was the smartest man he knew, and Oswald knew that if Edward wanted to figure it out he would. His offer was there, written in the lines plain to see. He would forever have hated himself had he not given Edward a choice, one learns from their mistakes after all.</p>
<p>With the letter in hand, Oswald instructed Zsasz to wait exactly one month after he left, to spring The Riddler from the asylum. Oswald handed over the letter, along with the case of clothing and cash that was to be given to Edward on his escape. </p>
<p>Taking one last lungful of the polluted Gotham air, he bid farewell to Victor Zsasz. Climbing into the stolen car he willed himself not to cry as he drove away, leaving his city behind him to start anew.</p>
<p>~*~</p>
<p>Edward was surprised when Victor Zsasz and Headhunter broke their way into Arkham, grabbing him and dragging him from the premises, before the inept staff even had time to react. </p>
<p>He knew of only one person who could compel Victor Zsasz to launch a rescue to free him, Oswald. His heart did not do a little flip, at the prospect of seeing his old friend once more. It was merely the prospect of leaving the Asylum behind that had his heart so joyful. </p>
<p>That Penguin would spring him had never been in doubt. That must mean that Oswald himself was free, ready to claim his place again as this city's king. </p>
<p>So it was with supreme confusion when Zsasz pulled into a courtyard in the narrows, depositing Edward outside one, of what used to be many, of Oswald's safe houses. Penguin's assassin handed him a key, closed the van door on him and drove away. </p>
<p>The safe house was a palace in comparison to Arkham. Tucking his now shoulder length hair behind his ears, he found himself able to breath freely for the first time in two long years. </p>
<p>All but collapsing onto the couch, Ed breathed in the dust and musty air. Removing the last traces of the scent of Arkham from his nose. He allowed his shoulders to sag in relief, savoring the moment. Drinking in the sounds so different from the constant babble of lunatics, that he had become so accustomed too. </p>
<p>Ed has no idea how long he just sat and savored his freedom for, expecting Oswald to make an appearance. Irritated when after quite some time, Oswald didn't show himself. </p>
<p>His attention was captured by a suitcase resting on the armchair, a white envelope neatly place on top. Ed stood to retrieve it, recognizing his name scrawled in Oswald's messy handwriting. He fingered it with trepidation, not having the courage to open it just yet. </p>
<p>Hours later, he wished that he hadn't. It was like reading the last will and testament of The Penguin. In a way he supposed that's exactly what it was. The Penguin was gone, turning his back on his city and walking away, leaving everything to Ed. </p>
<p>What was he thinking?. The Penguin was Gotham, he couldn't just pack up and leave. He had proved that just two years ago, with his refusal to leave his city. Staying to fight for his legacy.</p>
<p>They had a pact!, Oswald could not walk away from that. They were better together. Ed didn't want to go it alone, not when he could share his schemes and accomplishments with the only man worthy of his time. </p>
<p>Finding clean clothing and accessories in the case, he showered to remove the last remnants of Arkham from his skin. Smelling like his friend as he scrubbed the soap over his flesh, brought home how much he'd missed Oswald these past years. </p>
<p>His stomach ached and it wasn't only from lack of food. "Damn you Oswald for forcing my hand". Ed lashed out, his fist connected with the shower wall, splitting his knuckles. </p>
<p>He watched the blood swirl down the drain, diluted by the water and foam, angry with Oswald and himself. He was okay with them staying friends, as long as it kept him close to the man. </p>
<p>He had come at his dilemma from every angle while incarcerated. Coming to the logical conclusion that he had, in point of fact, been in love with Oswald all along. </p>
<p>At first he had blamed the medication, twisting his thought process by giving him the most ridiculous answer. But hiding his pills had left him with more clarity. Everything he had done, every stray thought, every plot of revenge, was out of hurt, pain, betrayal, because he was a man in love. </p>
<p>How he had deluded himself into being in love with Lee, all because he longed for Oswald. A female replacement, with her jet black hair, ruling the Narrows. Edward her right hand man, almost a mirrored reflection of his time at Oswald's side. </p>
<p>How on occasion during foreplay, it was Oswald on his knees, not Lee. When he took her too gentle, and she ordered him to speed up, faster and harder. It was Oswald's demands ringing in his ears, his name said in the throws of passion. Oswald's voice from Lee's lips, simply to be brushed aside after the fact as an aberration. </p>
<p>His feud causing him to dominate his thinking, hating The Penguin more for intruding on such an intimate act. Even after Lee was just a memory, a blip in his journey, he had still refused to see the truth. Naming it hate, revenge anything else but love. </p>
<p>Arkham had forced clarity, left with only his thoughts to pass the time. Finally accepting the truth, when it meant so very little now after all this time. </p>
<p>Now Oswald was gone, but Ed was alone. Fate weaved her spell, tying them together. Their strands woven so tight that it was unthinkable to separate them. Ed felt them pulling him even now, a firm tugging within his soul. To find Oswald, chase after him from town to city, until he stood by his side once again. </p>
<p>~*~</p>
<p>Oswald used alias's that he knew Edward was already aware of, or a combination of people they knew. If he so desired to follow in his footsteps he wanted Edward to be able to trace him. He trekked his way across the country, using a different name in each and every state. Not staying anywhere longer than a couple of weeks.</p>
<p>He had been gone a year, tomorrow. Having finally dropped the last name, Victor Pepper, that could be traced back to Oswald Cobblepot, and anyone else he used to know. Settling on something nondescript, Edward would have no idea who he was from now on. Matt Richardson was created, it was a good a name as any.</p>
<p>Edward hadn't found him, he had been hoping that he was following him, but the reality of it was not a surprise. After six months of no Ed, he knew that he was alone with only his disappointment for company. Edward had likely taken Gotham's center stage, basking in the limelight. Oswald wouldn't even warrant a passing thought.</p>
<p>So he had traveled onward, leaving his trail of breadcrumbs purely out of habit. No town or city seemed suitable for him. Wondering if he was destined to wander from state to state, never finding a new place to live, to start over. </p>
<p>But after nearly ten months, he drove the last of a long list of stolen cars, across state lines and into Vermont. A city boy at heart, he marveled at the forests and mountains. Not a single person from his old life would even think of looking for him here.</p>
<p>A picture postcard town of beauty, the mirror opposite of the city of his birth. Sunshine and clean air, no smog or filth in sight. </p>
<p>Hauling his suitcase, now battered and worn into the first guesthouse he found, it hit home that even with all its charm, this would never feel like home. But with dwindling resources and the desire to just stop, it would do.</p>
<p>Work was easy to find, with his silver tongue he had a steady income within days. Dressed down he was still smart, but the more attention stopping attire had been replaced by more practical clothing. Even going as far as flattening his usually spiked hair. </p>
<p>A small bed and breakfast place had been looking for help. The money wasn't much but it would do, with no politicians to bribe, or hired thugs to pay, Oswald didn't need much. The proprietors, two men so clearly in love, it caused his own heart to ache with the knowledge, that they had everything he would never have. </p>
<p>They could somehow tell that he had done despicable deeds in the past, 
but gave him a second chance, sharing a look not dissimilar to the one Edward and himself used to, when they were together before Blackgate. The unspoken communication of two people, who hadn't believed a word he said, but hired him anyway.</p>
<p>With the array of weaponry hidden throughout the B&amp;B, it almost made him feel at home. He could only imagine the horrors they must have seen, their eyes haunted by their past. His own filled with longing for a man who would never come, never choose him over the spectacle of villainy. </p>
<p>After a month he moved to a small apartment, part furnished with an open plan. Reminding him of Edward's loft, and a much simpler time. His first month in his new home was almost here, tomorrow would be a double anniversary.</p>
<p>He still looked over his shoulder, still waiting for the inevitable betrayal, but it happened less and less as time unraveled. No longer a kingpin, nor the villain. Instead a man who was lightly tanned, freckles prominent. Injuries attributed to a war, which wasn't technically a lie, just never specified which war. Most people far too polite to ask. </p>
<p>And slowly Oswald unwound. Relaxed into his new role, his new name. The Penguin lay forgotten, a cautionary tale only told to frighten children, warn them against walking in the dark. A path littered with nothing but sorrow and pain, paved with lies and betrayal, waiting to trip them up along the way. If he was even remembered at all.</p>
<p>~*~</p>
<p>Edward followed in Oswald's wake, always finding a clue to the next destination. A question mark and an arrow, his next destination dropped into a conversation about where he was from, or where his family lived. All of it lies. Until every clue was gone and Ed didn't know where to look next. </p>
<p>It had been fun, infuriating and challenging. Oswald leaving just enough for him to work with, he always knew Oswald was smart. He would have enjoyed it more had the man been by his side.</p>
<p>As the puzzle unraveled, Edward realized that they had been doing this all along. Oswald making him better, challenging him, still his mentor after all this time. Oswald never ceased to be his guide, even their conflict showed him how to be a better villain. He continued to learn from him, even now.  </p>
<p>Oswald had been right all this time, Edward needed him. They were better together, you really couldn't have one without the other. The Riddler needed The Penguin. And he knew that Oswald needed him, now more than ever. There was no escaping it, they were made for each other. Ed hated that he had been so dismissive of his own feelings until now. </p>
<p>Oswald's leaving had been the final test, the push that Edward needed to  accept what fate had been showing them all along, that they were meant to be inseparable. To return and take Gotham by storm, or stay with him wherever he now called home. Edward would show Oswald how far he had come. What lengths he was willing to go to, prove once and for all his love for him.</p>
<p>But he didn't know which direction to choose. Looking at the map was hardly helping, a trail of green ink leading from Gotham to Keene, New Hampshire, Ed appreciated the humor. Oswald had been a bus boy in a restaurant here for a few weeks, moving on a couple of months ago.</p>
<p>The question mark that Oswald had carved into the tree close to the entrance, was already darkened over with age. The directional arrow was missing, leaving him to flounder regarding Oswald's destination. </p>
<p>The light rain misting up his windscreen, reminded him of the rainy day he shot his best friend. Understanding now why the pain had overshadowed his reasoning. His actions after caused him to spiral into madness, that at the time he hadn't been aware of. </p>
<p>"The cold blooded murder of someone you love". Oswald had warned him and he hadn't listened. Told him the truth, only for it to fall on deaf ears. Well never again. He was going to find Oswald and tell him that everything he wanted was his for the taking. 

Ed had been Oswald's from the very start, and if his letter told him anything. It was that Oswald had wanted him to follow, he was still holding onto his love for Ed. </p>
<p>The map didn't help, no city or town names held anything meaningful. Ed brushed away a tear, removing his glasses. He was so close after almost eleven months of searching, he won't give up now. The only thing left was fate. Calm enough now to drive, he slid his glasses into place and pulled out of the parking lot. </p>
<p>He drove in the opposite direction from which he arrived, following a signpost for Vermont. The most unlikely place to find a lost Penguin, but Edward drove on through the drizzle, his heart leading his head for only the second time in his life.</p>
<p>~*~</p>
<p>Oswald had planned out his day, keeping busy at work until he would return to his apartment, eat Chinese food and cry into his moo shu pork and egg rolls, because Chinese food inevitably reminds him of Edward. They had received a last minute booking, so Oswald had checked over the room, leaving extra towels and retreated to the kitchen, cooking extra in case the new guest was hungry upon arrival. </p>
<p>After almost two months of honest work, he had come to the decision that he was going to stay in Vermont. No one here had ever heard of Gotham or The Penguin, he had even accepted his new name, Matt Richardson. Answering to it almost as quickly as when Fish had screamed for him, back in the day. </p>
<p>The Penguin, and by default Oswald Cobblepot, were both dead. </p>
<p>Matt Richardson was a war hero and all round okay guy. He liked to hit the liquor hard on his days off, drowning his sorrows, from a past he refused to discuss. Often silent and sullen, and when riled he had a temper, and he was undeniably gay. No one cared about any of it. To his bosses and guests he was simply Matt, the guy with a limp and damaged eye. Oswald was free to be whoever he wanted. </p>
<p>Leaving out of the back door because of the rain, he missed the arrival of their new guest. Collecting his supper on the way, he let himself into his cold apartment. Putting music on as background noise, an attempt to drown the sound of the rain, he cried as predicted. Three years since he'd laid eyes on Ed, longer since they met. Still the man held his heart prisoner.</p>
<p>Tomorrow, he was going to try and change. Go the whole day without thinking of Edward. No reminders, no memory to stab deep into his soul. It was time to bury his feelings for Ed, forever. Move on now that he's decided to stay, make a home for himself here. </p>
<p>But for tonight he wallows, Ed's voice in his head. Every word spoken in anger. "I. Don't. Love. You!". "Do you know why I could never love you?. Your a child who throws a tantrum when he doesn't get what he wants... when what he wants, doesn't want him back". "You have no friends... you are utterly alone". </p>
<p>Oswald sobs harder into his pillows, at the moments he treasures. "I hope you know Oswald, I would do anything for you. You can always count on me". "I continue to be in awe of you". "Oswald, I accept you for the person that you are, just as you accept me for the cold logician I am. That's why this friendship is great". "I'll miss you too Oswald". Oh, if only he did. Ed was probably even now, center stage in his ridiculous suit, leading the GCPD on a merry dance. Not a thought spared for his old friend. </p>
<p>~*~</p>
<p>Edward found himself deeper in Vermont. Sticking to the larger towns first. When he had scoured the whole state, if he hadn't found Oswald, he's not sure what he will do. No longer much interested in returning to Gotham without Oswald. What's really waiting there for him?. Apathy and incarceration.</p>
<p>He called ahead and booked a room, somewhere to lay his head. A B&amp;B, Hunters Rest, if he didn't drive himself off the road before he got there. His eyes sore and tired behind his glasses. The ache from his stomach from lack of food, too intent on his search that he forgot to eat, again. Oswald's money almost gone, only a couple of thousand left. Enough for a few more months of searching at the very least.</p>
<p>Then what?. Ed already knows he could go on without Oswald. Keep driving until he's old and gray. The Riddler a name shrouded only in mystery, long forgotten, it's fitting in its own way, forever the enigma. But to carry on regardless, alone, empty, with no end goal in sight. No Oswald at his side, what then?.</p>
<p>The building looms out of the rain, headlights pan to show a quaint, well kept property. Flowerbeds and hanging baskets getting drenched in the downpour. It's the complete opposite of the mansion, Oswald's ancestral home, once his, all too briefly. Bright and airy even soaking wet, no dark oak paneling, deep burgundy carpets to help hide the blood. So far from anything Gotham, that it forces out a dark chuckle.</p>
<p>Dripping wet he checks in, the man has the bluest eyes he's ever seen. But they're not the color he wants to drown in. No hint of green in sight. Like swallowing razor blades, he chokes out a yes to food. Anyone else would be unnerved by him, his smile too wide, the manic look in his eyes. But the smile is returned along with a room key. Informed that due to the late hour their assistant has left for the night, he can take his food from the kitchen and eat in his room. </p>
<p>The food makes him weep, who in Vermont makes Hungarian stews. There's too much paprika, just the way that Oswald likes. He stomachs more spoonfuls, scraping the bowl. Each mouthful savored, although difficult to swallow, past the lump in his throat. Still wet and bedraggled he curls into a ball on the soft bed. The phantom scent pervades his sinuses, the perfect mix of masculine and floral, Oswald.</p>
<p>He clings to it as he drifts, memory leaving burning trails in his mind. "Perhaps Edward, we really are meant for each other". His own voice an echo, so young, eager and naive. "Do you believe in fate?". "Fate has different plans for us". Oswald and fate, they're one and the same. </p>
<p>~*~</p>
<p>The day dawns bright, sunshine misting the residue moisture from the ground. The chill in the air far from unpleasant. Oswald looks exactly like a man who has cried all night, eyes red and nose stuffy. Brushing his hair he stuffs last night away in a box, Edward Nygma folded and sealed away in his head once more. The anniversary of his old life is over.</p>
<p>It's now time to move on with his life, start anew. He has a dinner with his bosses tonight, he's going to tell them that he wants to stay. Vermont isn't a bad place, no criminals altered by a mad doctor. No one waiting to stab him in the back. Just sunshine, mountains, forests and rivers, and the possibility of friends.</p>
<p>He prepares breakfast. One family is leaving today, so he fixes them food for the road. The Hunters Rest is open all year round, so he will have plenty of work in the winter. His leg aches today, his limp more pronounced as he finishes cooking. Gulping down a coffee no longer having to worry about keeping alert, he swallowed a pill for the pain. </p>
<p>The breakfast room is filling up as he places trays of eggs, sausage and bacon. One man catches his eye, curling shoulder length brown hair, a lime green jumper. Head bent over a map, long fingers tapping a rhythmic pulse on the table. He let's out a puff of breath at the man who reminds him of Edward, returning to the kitchen with a shake of his head. </p>
<p>He sets about his daily chores, noting that butter and bread are running low. Checking the date for the next delivery. He pops his head back out of the door, ready to collect plates, when he spots the man again. Oswald catches the glint off the man's glasses and suddenly can't breathe. Rushing back into the kitchen. There is no way that could be Ed. After all this time, it's just not feasible.</p>
<p>When he plucked up the courage to look again, the man is gone. An empty plate left in his place, which Oswald leaves until last to collect. As the day wears on he keeps looking for that man, he could easily check the booking, but doesn't know what he will do if it's really him. He doesn't show for lunch or dinner, and he begins to relax. The Riddler is still thousands of miles away in Gotham, terrorizing the population, not in a sleepy little town in Vermont. Wishful thinking, that's all it is. His brains way of purging his past.</p>
<p>He snorts out a laugh at the true absurdity of it, who will he imagine next Victor Zsasz, Harvey Bullock. He smiles as he finishes up, ready for his late dinner. The phone rings and he limps his way to answer. A new booking for next month. Writing it into the registration book he hears the door open and a small breeze blows in. He speaks without looking up. </p>
<p>"I won't keep you a moment!".</p>
<p>The footsteps coming his way stop abruptly. He finishes scribbling and looks up into the shocked and tearful face of the man, who he never thought that he would ever see again. </p>
<p>"Oswald!".</p>
<p>"Edward!".</p>
<p>They both stand frozen, neither believing that after all this time, here they are. Oswald's sure that he's dreaming. Edward afraid that he's hallucinating his best friend, again. </p>
<p>~*~</p>
<p>Ed needs to know that Oswald is real. After all this time and coming so far, to have found him now, here. He doesn't know what to say, where to start. Every word he needs seems to have left his head. Oswald speaks first.</p>
<p>"What happened to your hair?".</p>
<p>The simple question has his feet moving, separated by the reception desk Ed can't get any closer. So he leans across it, grinning like a mad man. </p>
<p>"What happened to yours?".</p>
<p>Oswald snorts amused, before pretending to look offended. The new look makes him look softer, which Ed knows is incredibly misleading. He likes it all the same, it's just not what he's used to. They are just staring at each other now, why can't he say something, anything. Oswald's smile starts to drop. </p>
<p>"Why have you come Ed?".</p>
<p>Oswald sounds weary as he shuffles slowly, moving out from behind the desk. Wasn't it obvious?. But Oswald was going to make him say it, admit it out loud. Ed had thought that he was ready, finally after all this time, to confess his true feelings for this man, but the simple action of opening his mouth was just too much for him. </p>
<p>Instead he wrapped his arms around him. Oswald stiff in his embrace, until firm hands were clutching him, holding him tight as if they would never let go. Ed was fine with that, sinking into the smell and feel of Oswald surrounding him. He released a strangled noise, struggling to breathe, to tell this man everything. Forcing out the words Oswald needed to hear. </p>
<p>"Because I love you, more than anything... and you left me behind".</p>
<p>Ed broke, weeping into his best friends hair. Terrified that he'd been wrong, that Oswald hadn't wanted him to find him. The arms tightly secured around him, restricting his breathing, told a different story. </p>
<p>"Oh Ed, I...". Oswald choked, his voice breaking, a fresh wave of tears soaked into his jumper. He felt Oswald pulling away from him, only to be tugged down by his hair, lips crushing against his own. Hunger and want and relief, flooding through his body, demanding that he give this man everything, no matter the cost. </p>
<p>Oswald showed no restraint, his kiss furnace hot. It was everything he had dreamt of and so much more, he didn't want it to end. So when Oswald started to ease away, Ed chased after him, not ready to leave his lips, capturing them in a much softer kiss. A constant brush and slide of lips, tender and perfect, and full of love. </p>
<p>~*~</p>
<p>When Oswald rolls over and stretches, he grumbles for Edward to come back to bed. His husband stands at the window watching the crisp snow falling, blanketing their little town white. He obliges, chilled flesh pressing against Oswald's own warm skin, making him shiver. Edward laughing so beautifully, as he tries to wriggle away to stay warm. It's mornings like this that Oswald never thought he would have. </p>
<p>Ed kisses him with cold lips. They can hide under the covers, stay warm for a few more hours, the day has barely begun. Ed grins with a suspicious twinkle in his eyes. Oh. Oh!, it's that kind of morning, where Edward will take his time with him. Worship and unravel Oswald completely with his every touch, he will deny his husband nothing. </p>
<p>One day, sooner or later they will return to Gotham, and take back their city. Revel in the inevitable bloodshed that will ensue, but not today. The years can pass without them for now, their city can wait for their return. For now, The Riddler and The Penguin are at rest, dormant and hibernating. </p>
<p>Both men content with their ordinary married life, for now at least. Plans and schemes set aside for when they return, Edward's more outrageous than his own. </p>
<p>As both men sink into bliss, the snow continues to fall softly, fresh and pristine. A blank canvas waiting for something new to be bought to life. Passionate and beautiful or terrifying and horrific, only time will tell. </p>
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